You were the best teller of tales -- not stories --
I've ever known. Since you're dead I will never
Have reason to visit Yakima and will never know
From which small pieces of truth you made
Better truths, stronger and built to last.
Did you ever teach yourself to see
Your awful hometown as full of wonders?
Just before you died did the Dalai Lama
Slip into your hand a peacock feather
Knowing you, of all men, would understand?
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